


And May Death Never Stop You

by grimmauxillatrix



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Comedy, M/M, Post-Canon, Spoilers, an impertinent apparation, ghost dads ruin everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmauxillatrix/pseuds/grimmauxillatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WARNING: By its very nature, this fic contains spoilers. Continue at your own discretion.</p><p>Even in death, you can't get rid of Han Solo. Kylo Ren learns this the hard way when his father shows up to give him a little bit of parental advice, post mortem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And May Death Never Stop You

Killing his father was supposed to finalize his dedication to the dark side. It was supposed to mark his final rejection of the light, a blood sacrifice to the dark powers he so desired to fully unleash upon the galaxy.

It was not supposed to result in Han Solo hanging around, criticizing his every move.

“Look son, all this practice against remotes isn’t going to make you any better at fighting real people. I told that to Luke, he didn’t listen either, and he got his hand cut off. You want that?” Ren whirled away from the ghostly face of his father and returned to slicing the battle droids apart, trying to do it as loudly as possible. Maybe, maybe if he ignored him, he would finally go away into the peaceful mists of death or whatever he believed in.

“Seriously. I watched Rey kick your ass. This isn’t helping.”

Ren screams, which only makes his father tsk at him. “Even for a darksider that’s too much. I thought Leia and I taught you how to behave better than this.”

Ren continues to scream, storming out of the practice room, as Han Solo looks on with a sad sigh. “I thought I was disappointed in him before,” He comments to the twitching remains of one of the battle droids. “But this is worse than I thought.”

* * *

 

“You don’t need that helmet.” Ren jumps as the ghost materializes next to him in the fresher. “You’re a good-looking kid, even with the scar. The helmet makes you look stupid.”

“Leave me ALONE.” Ren growls, fists clenching and unclenching, wishing desperately that Solo hadn’t decided to come provide commentary while he was on the toilet.

“No.” Solo crosses his arms, as though he were once again potty training a stubborn toddler. “You killed me, Ben, and I have to say that while being dead has helped me work past my absolute shock and sadness, I’m still angry with you. How could you do that to your mother?”

“SHE’S DEAD TO ME! AS ARE YOU!” Ren shrieks, his declaration made slightly less potent by his current position on the loo.

Shock and upset passes briefly over Solo’s features before he manages to hide it with a frown. “That’s no way to speak about your mother. Look, kid.” The ghost sits down on the counter. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help guide you through a lot of rough patches in your life. I really mean it. So I’m going to make it up to you by being here for you now.” And he is, no matter how long Ren waits for him to leave before he can get off of the loo.

* * *

  
“What the hell is this?” Once again Ren is jerked out of his meditation, and this time he whirls to face the ghost, but Solo continues before he can even open his mouth.

“Are you…. communing with the helmet? Does it talk back?” Solo steps closer, mouth twisting in disgust. “Ugh, it looks like a rotting Thalassian pumpkin. That can’t be healthy. Are these ASHES?”

“GET OUT!” Ren shrieks, rushing forward to protect Darth Vader’s ashes from this impertinent apparition.

“You know, I will!” Solo retorts. “This is bizarre, even for you. Did Snoke tell you to do this?”

“OUT!” Ren clenches his fists, staring at Solo until he strides through the door. He tries to return to his meditation, but the sacred atmosphere has been thoroughly trashed by his father’s- Solo’s- comments. His focus is ruined. Maybe Darth Vader’s burnt helmet does slightly resemble a rotten gourd.

* * *

“Stars help us.”

Ren feels Hux stiffen as his own stomach drops to somewhere around his ankles. No. He didn’t. This was a figment of imagination. He couldn’t possibly-

“THIS is who you’re seeing? Tarkin Junior?” Han Solo is leaning against Hux’s desk, one eyebrow raised, staring at his son’s naked rear as he’s balls-deep in the First Order’s highest ranking general. “I thought you had better taste than that.”

“Ren what the hell is this?” Hux hisses before Ren clamps a hand over his face and turns to stare at the ghost, feeling his blood boiling in his veins.

“IS NOTHING SACRED TO YOU?” He shrieks, feeling the prickling of tears of frustration in his eyes and throat. “My training, my meditation, the fresher, now here?”

“Easy, easy.” Solo holds his hands out in a conciliatory gesture that somehow feels mocking. “I just wanted to offer you some tips.”

Hux writhes underneath Ren’s hand, starting to turn red. “I don’t NEED tips!” Ren howls.

“Suffocating your lover is generally frowned upon in human relationships,” Solo continues, a bit of a grin beginning to creep up his face. “Also, you might want to try angling his hips a little bit. Really hit that prostate. It’ll make him scream.” Over Ren’s growing howl of inarticulate rage, he continues. “Use more lube. Trust me, when there’s a puddle under him that’s when it gets really good. Just slide in and out like it’s nothing. Try touching him too, it’s considered good manners.”

Solo strokes his chin thoughtfully, ignoring both the crescendo of screams of “shut up” and Hux’s slow transition towards being blue in color. “Honestly, I can’t believe that you’re this horrible at this. Leia’s a natural.”

He continues looking thoughtful as both Ren and Hux begin making choking noises. “I suppose you got that from your dirty good-for-nothing dark side grandfather.”

* * *

Light-years away, in the command room of the Resistance base, General Organa smiles for the first time since she felt Han Solo’s death. She somehow, suddenly, has the feeling that even in death, the old scoundrel is doing alright for himself.


End file.
